


The Izaya Collection

by KYUUxKYUU



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Fluff, Public Sex, Reader-Insert, Self-Insert, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-24
Updated: 2017-09-26
Packaged: 2018-07-18 00:51:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7292845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KYUUxKYUU/pseuds/KYUUxKYUU
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of IzayaxReader in various prompts. Some chapters include smut or some suggestive material.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Electricity

It’s a Friday night and your favorite show is playing on the flat screen television. A hot cup of your favorite warm beverage sits next to a slice of pizza on the burgundy table in front of you. The night is perfect and yet you can not relax at all.  
From Izaya’s (your boyfriend of six months now) black leather couch you glance around the room nervously. Your shoulders are tight with tension your whole body is prepared to jump out of the way at the drop of a hat.   
You are waiting for an attack.

For the past week, Izaya has been tormenting you relentlessly. It all started one Tuesday morning when you were going to the fridge for the milk for your cereal and maybe a little piece of leftover brownie (it was Tuesday, you deserved it). Izaya was in his office a wall away, typing on his computer with inhumane speed and chuckling to himself about his latest "lovely humans’ developments," as per usual. Everything was going just dandy until your hand touched the metal handle of the fridge.

“OW!”

The typing in the next room ceased and Izaya appeared at your side in moments, demanding to see the hand you were clutching in pain.

“What happened, ___-chan,” Izaya asked, a rare serious moment. He was prepared for the worst from his clumsy partner in the kitchen. A nasty scrape, a knife wound--perhaps a whole finger was severed off.

You sniffled and looked away, embarrassed.

“The fridge shocked me…”

Izaya blinked owlishly, clearly confused before the gears began turning and his evil grin was back.

“Oh~? Does it hurt,” he asked, figuratively throwing you off.

Of course it hurt; it was a static shock! You hate those with a passion. Before the better part of your mind could recognize the mischievous grin plastered on your boyfriend’s face, a finger poked your side bringing what felt like thousands of volts of electrical charge with it.

“Ouch, Izaya, stop!”

Despite your pleas, you found yourself being chased around his apartment while he shuffled his black socked feet on the carpet and cackled like a maniac just to shock you. Needless to say, he slept on the couch that night.

And currently, although you can’t see him, you know Izaya is lurking in the shadows somewhere nearby, waiting for the perfect moment to attack. The sick bastard finds pleasure in seeing your reactions.

You shift a bit when your legs start falling asleep and your eyes fall back to the high quality graphics on the TV in front of you. A particularly funny part of the show interests you and you unknowingly begin giving the screen all of your attention.

When your favorite character appears you become giddy and excitedly shift in your seat. You reach for the slice of pizza to fully enjoy yourself while your favorite character makes his trademark idiosyncrasy, causing your eyes to crinkle in mirth and a happy grin to appear on your face.

Just as tip of the pizza makes it to your mouth a sharp pain erupts on the side of your neck and you scream, pizza carelessly tossed to the side. You clutch your neck and your wide eyes meet satisfied crimson ones, his cackles filling your ears.

“What an interesting response~ I think I want to hear it again,” Izaya teases, hands outstretched towards you and fingers wriggling in a threatening way.

You quickly but clumsily roll off the couch and hold out your own hands in self-defense.

“Stay away from me, you monster!”

The words only make him laugh more and he advances towards you in his usual childish but calculated grace. You stumble on your own feet in attempt to get away from him.

“Seriously please stop, Izaya,” you attempt to beg, “it hurts.”

The man feigns a sympathetic expression but his advances don’t cease.

“Aw, I’m sorry my dear, shall I hug you to make you feel better~?”

Your eyes widen and he pounces before you can even make a move to escape. The shocks around your body hurt just as much as the others and tears begin to prickle in your eyes. You give him the dirtiest glare you can muster through the water.

“Why are you doing this!? I hate you,” you exclaim from under him. You two had landed on the ground with Izaya straddling you.

“I’m flattered~,” Izaya continues to tease dipping his head down to meet your reluctant lips.

Somehow, the kiss quickly becomes passionate and this time, the shock isn’t a painful one.

His kisses, as always, are forceful, hard, and heated—nothing like the sweet, romantic kisses every girl dreams up. Even so, you find yourself liking Izaya’s kisses more.   
Only after the both of you are out of breath does he pull back. His smirk is still in place and his eyes seem to be memorizing every centimeter of your flushed face.

“I love you,” you whisper breathlessly, any grudges now forgotten as you submit yourself fully to the man of your desires.

“I know~,” he sings back simply, dipping down for another kiss which you meet a little too eagerly.

Today, you realize there’s at least one type of electric shock that you definitely don’t mind.


	2. Hide-and-Seek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Izaya challenges you to a game of hide-and-seek and you accept. If only you had realized what the prize was...

15:30

“Let’s play a game~!”

You instinctively knew,deep down inside, that this was a terrible idea. Accepting a game with him was comparable to signing your life away—and yet, because it was him, somehow you found yourself a little excited. As they say, curiosity killed the cat, and you found yourself nodding your head in tacit agreement to his proposal. His smirk made you immediately rethink your decision.

“I’ll count to a hundred—if I find you within the hour you must do whatever I say~ isn’t this a great game?”

An insane giggle followed before the information broker turned around, facing a vending machine as he began to count in a sing-song voice. You dash off without a second thought.

You’re playing hide-and-seek with Orihara Izaya in the streets of Ikebukuro.

The thought alone is enough to make you feel dizzy with anxiety and confusion but your feet are pounding the pavement relentlessly and adrenaline is buzzing in your veins along with the pounding of a heart in your ears. Wind whooshes pass you, ruffling your hair while passersby give you weird looks and some even throw obscenities when you accidentally bump into a few in the crowd. Nothing else matters to you but your destination—which you don’t know yet.

You’ve been calculating in your head the rough amount of time that has passed, probably about 15 seconds which (knowing Izaya’s unfair tendencies when it comes to getting what he wants) means Izaya has probably counted to about 30 seconds by now.

Ahead you can see the light change to red as the last few pedestrians reach the other side and impatient cars begin zipping pass the white lines. Not willing to waste a single moment waiting to slow you down, you make an impromptu turn, skidding on the sides of your converse and nearly knocking a fruit stand over—you fleetingly wonder if they sell your favorite. You don’t stop to find out.

Finally, you see a familiar building with equally familiar people that give you the idea of a good hiding spot (if such a thing even exists when playing with the man who knows everything). You bust through the doors of Russia Sushi, stumbling into a huge foreign man and a tall bartender.

“Whoa. Y’okay, lady? Need sushi,” the foreign man asks, helping you balance yourself and motioning to the bar with his stack of flyers.

“No thank you, Simon,” you answer, struggling to catch your breath, “I just need a place to hide out for a while.”

“Is someone bothering you,” the other male asks, his tinted sunglasses looking down at you with an unreadable expression that others would most likely mistake as anger.

Although he seems violent, Heiwajima Shizuo quickly became a good friend to you shortly after you moved to Ikebukuro from your own town. He, although blunt and not one for idle conversation, is a kind person and protective friend, never failing to help you out on the rare occasion you request his assistance.

“It’s no big deal, I’m just playing a stupid game with Izaya,” you say, not wanting to make Shizuo worry about you.

But with just the mention of Izaya’s name, Shizuo visible tenses, fists clenching.

“I don’t understand why you even tolerate him,” Shizuo muttered.

Before you could stamper as excuse with red cheeks because you know _exactly_ why stick around the crazy man, the sounds of a car brake screeching and loud shouts of profanities drew everyone’s attention.

From the large glass doors, Izaya could be seen casually walking across the street, grinning like a maniac and ignoring the red lights that indicated people weren’t supposed to be crossing the streets. Several cars were smashed against each other in attempts not to hit the carefree man.

You jump when you realize how close he is and you make a dive for a small area behind the bar.

Shizuo glances from you to the man now only meters from the door and begins popping his knuckles, fully intent on beating the pulp out of his enemy.

“W-wait you don’t have to—“

Shizuo cuts you off while he pushes the doors open.

“I’m not doing this for you—I’ve been wanting to kick the flea’s ass today.”

From outside greetings (insults) can be heard.

“I’m not here for you today, I don’t have time for such a violent person with a protozoan-sized brain,” you hear Izaya announce.

“Get out of my sight before I kill you,” Shizuo threatened, already up-rooting a street sign from the pavement.

You decide that now is probably a good time to sneak away so you slip through the back door of Russia Sushi and run off aimlessly once more, only wanting to distance yourself from the self-proclaimed god as much as possible.

You wonder if luck is on your side today because you soon spot the park with a familiar face—err, _body_ sitting on the ledge of the fountain next to her bike.

Celty is surprised to see you running towards her, out of breath and panic-stricken. She pulls out her PDA and swiftly types a message she shows you when you reach her.

_Is everything alright? Are you in trouble?_

You nod, hands on your knees as you once again struggle for your breath. After a moment you have enough oxygen to form a broken sentence.

“Izaya…hide-and-seek…I only have 10 minutes left…”

Somehow, the biker understands and presents you another message.

_I think I know a place you can hide._

You manage to smile gratefully, breath still coming out in small puffs in the hot summer air.

Celty reaches for a spare helmet and mounts her motorcycle, patiently waiting for you to finish strapping on the helmet and to hop on. However, before you can hook your leg around the bike, a long string of crashes interrupts you, following by an insane laugh you know all too well.

A vending machine skids to a stop in front of the two of you and you can see the figure of Izaya coming towards you with Shizuo a little ways behind, already holding his next weapon—a small car.

Panicked, you dash off, unaware of Celty’s attempts to stop you. In retrospect, you’ll probably wonder why you tried to outrun Izaya of all people on foot with a perfectly skilled motorcyclist next to you. 

As you run, you see many hiding spots that would be great if you were playing hide-and-seek with a normal person. Places like bushes, a friend’s house, the ladies restroom—but none of these would protect your from the information broker. In fact, you are positive that even if you hide in a female shower room full of occupants, Izaya would come into the stall to retrieve you without hesitation. He’s just a sick, psychotic man with no regard for anyone else’s feelings but his own. You wonder why on earth you actually have a crush on Orihara Izaya and go along with his games.

You begin to worry when you feel your stamina quickly failing and frantically look for a decent, unlikely place to at least rest for a while. Coincidentally, you spot a metal door at the end of an alley, slightly cracked. Checking to make sure you can’t see Izaya anywhere in sight, you stumble down the alley and practically through yourself through the doorway.

It is dark, damp, small, and smells of mold and cleaning products. You realize it must be a storage closet to whatever is outside the other door to your right. The trembling of the ground, muffled music, and strong odor of cigarettes means it is probably a dance club or bar of some type. You are not the type of person to frequent those types of places much or at all really, and you are sure Izaya, a man who makes a living off of stalking and studying people, knows this. You feel much safer and begin to realize this might be the perfect hiding place for you for the remainder of the hour. 

You pull out your phone, squinting at the bright screen in the dark room. 15:55. You can hardly believe it—you only have to wait five minutes and you’ll have won the game!

You grin ear to ear and do a little pre-victory dance (more like a shuffle from your place on the damp concrete) as you begin the short wait. Every once in a while you hear footsteps near the door facing the inside of the bar but they always pass by a moment later and are accompanied by mumbles or laughter. The occasional _something_ scampers across your legs but you try your best to ignore it and not imagine the large cockroaches and rats that are probably making the closet home.

To pass time, you think about what odd things you will make Izaya do after you win. Make him call you "master?" Force him into girly clothes? They both sound like great fun. If you feel really bold, maybe you could tie him up and force him to--no. You blush at your own thoughts. 

After a while, you grow anxious and bored and you check your smartphone again.  
Only two minutes remaining! Your victory is practically certain and you begin counting down the seconds with your phone’s stopwatch.  
15:59—only 60 seconds!

You can hardly contain your giggles and squeals of excitement when the time reaches single digits.

9…

8… almost there!

7…

6…

5… so close!

4…  
A sudden light engulfs the closet and you are momentarily blinded.

3…

A pair of arms wrap around your waist.

2…

“Found you,” a dark voice whispers.

You nearly jump out of your skin and spin around to face glowing crimson eyes in horror.

“I-Izaya, how…” you whisper, eyes alternating between widening in shock and squinting in the light.

He chuckles and leans in towards you, trapping you between his arms that are supported by the wall behind you.

His eyes never leave yours, his smirk never falters.

“There is nothing about you I don’t know~,” he answers simply. His gaze falls to your lips before he leans in to whisper in your ear, hot breath fanning and causing shivers to rack your spine deliciously. Embarrassing parts of your body begin to throb and heat up, causing a blush to take over your cheeks and the tips of your ears.

“And tonight,” he whispers huskily, a hint of a smirk in his voice, “I will get to know your body even more~!”

Playing hide-and-seek with Orihara Izaya is never a good idea.


	3. Library

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Izaya offers to help you study, which you refuse, but he comes along anyway.  
> Warning: Smut, Public sex (library)

_…the x-axis so that its velocity at time t, for 0 ≤ t ≤ 6, is given by a differentiable function v whose gra—_

“You can’t even do this much right? How disappointing~!”

For what felt like the hundredth time, you groaned aloud and had to physically restrain yourself from punching Izaya in the face. You slowly turned towards the cocky man, malice plainly visible in your expression.

“Maybe I would be able to do it properly, Izaya,” you spat his name out as if it were poison, “if you’d left me alone.”

He only shrugged nonchalantly, eyes never leaving yours. It was obvious he had no intentions of leaving your side. You sigh and turn back towards your calculus textbook in defeat.

Your idea of a fun Saturday afternoon most certainly did not involve reading your calculus textbook in the college’s main library but, with exams coming up next month and your degree in [d/m] on the line, you found yourself huddled up in an isolated corner of the library with a cup of coffee to your right and thick, overly-expensive secondhand textbooks of various subjects scattered across your table.

Izaya, however, was most certainly not supposed to be part of the deal. Barely an hour into your self-study session, he had shown up with his usual cockiness and took it upon himself to “help you," as he was “the most intelligent one in the whole school." The last part was most certainly not a lie, the man was a total effortless genius, but his version of “helping you” was just annoying and distracting you as much as he could—which was a lot.

His attacks ranged from insulting your intelligence, complaining that you had been studying too much and needed a break, and even poking you in the side a few times until you had to physically move to another seat--where he would quickly follow.

He was infuriating, to say the least, and you looked forward to the day you graduate and do not have to see him in class ever again. You huff and reluctantly return to your work.

_If the function v is inve— >/i>_

_“The answer is 42, letter “D”.”_

_You almost snap your mechanical pencil in half._

_“Izaya, I’m trying to do this myself, I don’t need you to tell me the answer,” you whisper-yell, mindful the two of you are still in a library. Somehow he always manages to speak at regular volume and not be caught._

_“You’ve been studying for so long. Its obvious you’ll never get it, so you may as well take a break.”_

_You roll your eyes and open your mouth to retort back something along the lines of “not everyone can be a natural genius like you” but instead you can only produce a small squeal as you feels cold hands grip your waist, hoisting you up onto an empty spot on the wooden table._

_Your face feels hot and you try your best to glare at the smirking man and pulls his hands away from you._

_“What the hell do you think you’re doing!? Get off of me, Izaya!”_

_You feel as weak as a child as you try to push him off and he doesn’t even budge, his hands steadily snake up your sides towards your clothed chest. The heat on your face intensifies as you realize what his intentions are._

_Izaya was attractive, that much you couldn’t deny. He had been the subject of many of your dreams, leaving you waking up panting, ashamed, and embarrassingly turned on. You would rather die than admit any of that, though._

_“Come on, you know you want to~,” he teases, carmine eyes locked on your own as his hands grope at your chest, eliciting a stifled moan from your parted lips. "I see the way you look at me when you think I'm not paying attention."  
Your face erupts into flames._

_“B-but, we’re in a library—and the window is right there,” you protest, referring to the large, second-story window behind the two of you with a clear view of the sidewalk and main entrance of the university where a couple of students enjoy the afternoon sun with lunches or laptops._

_Izaya’s movements do not falter in the least._

_“No one ever comes to this part of the library and it’s Spring Break. No one will notice—as long as you keep quiet,” he snickers at the last part as he flips you over so that edge of the table is digging into the front of your hips and you are able to the sunset out of the large window._

_Your top and bra are pulled up swiftly, bunched up just under your chin as his long, thin fingers begin caressing the underside of your soft breasts before moving up to tease your sensitive nipples._

_You nearly lose all resolve and melt into a softly mewling mess, hands shakily supporting your weight on the table as his index finger and thumb lightly tug on your hardened nubs. He attacks the right side of your neck with hot, open-mouthed kisses and the occasional nip of teeth and it becomes harder and harder to keep your volume in check._

_You barely register Izaya pushing you forward until you feel your chest uncomfortably crushed against the hard table and your bottoms being tugged down past your knees, followed by your underwear. The cold library air hitting your most private, already wet area causes you to shiver and you bite down on the sleeve of your shirt in anticipation._

_“You’re so wet,” you hear Izaya tease behind you, hands suddenly grabbing a hold of each globe of your rounded bottom and squeezing. You squeeze your eyes shut and force back a pleasured whimper in response._

_A light smack resounds in the air and you feel the sting on your left butt cheek. You can help but to cry out slightly, your sleeve luckily muffling the sound. Izaya snickers._

_His hands leave your body all together and you can only make out soft rustling for a few moments before his hands are back on your ass from a new angle, spreading your cheeks apart before you feel a hot tongue lightly gliding up your slit._

_He repeats the action a few times more before his tongue suddenly delves into your slick entrance completely, ripping a surprised yelp from your throat. He thrusts his tongue in and out of you quickly, making soft squelching sounds that make you feel dirty but turn you on even more. You briefly crack your eyes open and catch a glimpse of a group of professors on the sidewalk below, chatting casually and laughing as they walked, oblivious to the dirty deeds their students were doing just above. All they would have to do is turn around and look up…_

_You involuntarily clench around Izaya’s tongue at the thought._

_After a few more moments, he removes his tongue from your entrance, a thin trail of his saliva and your fluids connecting the two of you for a moment before breaking off as he stood._

_“You’re already ready for me so quickly. How naughty~,” he whispers deeply, a sharp zip and the rustling of fabric filling the air. In the distance you think you can hear soft footsteps coming in the direction the two of you are in and you tense up but the feeling of something large, hot and rounded pressing against your sopping wet hole makes you forget about anything but Izaya._

_He teasingly presses the head of his cock against you, spreading you apart slightly before pulling away, causing you to whine softly in disappointment and involuntary push back against him. You can hear him chuckle darkly in amusement before he repositions himself and pushes in swiftly, bottoming out in one thrust. You would have cried out loudly enough for everyone in the library to know exactly what the two of you were doing if it weren’t for the Izaya’s quick fingers that smartly pushed into your mouth, muffling your voice. You instinctively worked your tongue over the digits, sucking them with need as Izaya began to slowly thrust in and out of you._

_Izaya bit back a groan at the sight of you, pushed against the table and sucking on his fingers obediently as he fucked you from behind. Since the day he saw you, he was immediately attracted and spent many nights masturbating to the sight of you under him, teary eyes begging for him to satisfy both of your lustful needs. He purposefully followed you around campus for a a few months, relentlessly teasing you with the intentions of being someone you would not easily forget. And now, finally, he had gotten exactly wanted--as was always the case when it came to Izaya._

_He sped up his thrusts, driving into your tight heat with months of pent up sexual frustration that you were completely oblivious to but also felt on your own._

_You moaned against his fingers as drool trickled down the sides of your mouth, rocking your hips against his in equal fervor. He leaned down, hips never missing a beat, and began sucking harshly on the side of your neck, marking you._

_You could feel your stomach tightening with each deep thrust, getting closer and closer to you impending climax. Izaya seemed to be close as well, because his thrusts were nearly inhuman in speed and his breathing became labored, occasionally hitching when you clench particularly hard on his length._

_The table was shaking and if you were not so caught up in lust you probably would have been worried it would collapse under the abuse altogether._

_Izaya’s thrust were losing their previous carefully calculated rhythm, becoming sloppy and harsh but pleasurable nonetheless and your mewls and hiccuped moans were becoming more and more difficult to muffle. Dazed, you were unaware of his hand moving from your hips to your core until you felt shocks travelling up your body from your clit._

_You came suddenly, your vision seeming to flash white for a second at the intensity and your entrance fluttered and tightened around Izaya’s pistoning length sporadically. The man above you followed shortly after, slowing his thrusts before pushing all the way inside of you as he released, filling you with his hot cum._

_With his athletic (parkour) ability, Izaya caught his breath much quicker than you did and pulled away from you, his fingers leaving your mouth thoroughly soaked in your saliva, making you want to curl up in a ball and die in shame if you weren’t so exhausted. He groaned slightly as he pulled out of you, extremely sensitive from his recent orgasm. The sight, however, was worth it, he realized as he watched his own cum drip from your reddened, abused entrance down your quivering thighs._

_He briefly wondered how angry you would be if he snapped a quick picture right now with his cell phone._

_Before he could ponder over it (get his phone out of his pocket) an announcement from the librarian in the distance that “the library will be closing in ten minutes” prompted him to pull up his pants and fix his disheveled appearance instead before helping you with your own clothing—but not without an arrogant smirk and a few teasing remarks._

_After the two of you looked presentable and you had gathered up your study materials, the two of you were the last to leave the library, greeted by an obliviously smiling elderly librarian. You were blushing in mortification to which Izaya only worsened by telling the lady how wonderfully _thorough_ and _intense_ of a study session the two of you had. She praised you both and encouraged you two to "come again." Izaya cackled loudly before you elbowed him in the side and you two took your leave._

_Izaya, surprisingly, walked you all the way back to your dorm room, though you were too embarrassed to look in his direction for most of the time._

_When the two of you reached the door to your room, Izaya left you with a piece of paper with his phone number and the promise of: “if you ever need more help with studying, feel free to call me~”._


	4. Hufflepuff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which you debate Izaya's house and he convinces you otherwise.  
> Warning(s): none

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by Jane Everlasting from FFN.

"You know," you begin from your position on the dark leather sofa, "most would probably label you as a  _Slytherin_  but, actually, I think you might be more of a  _Ravenclaw._ "

Izaya continues his rapid typing, his body giving no indication he had even heard your words as you eye him. While he did not usually ignore you, you were always aware that his work came before all else and he seems particularly busy today.

You could not help the frown that graces your features anyway. Well aware he would probably not reply to any of it, you continue on anyway.

"You're cunning and deceptive, sure, and  _yeah_  you manipulate people sometimes...okay, well,  _all the time_ , but I think, above all else, you seek knowledge." You nod along with your words, beginning to get carried away with your own theories. You no longer notice the clacking of Izaya's keyboard or his occasional manic laughter that generally filled the apartment when he is working, instead opting to concentrate on your extensive house knowledge from hours of editing the Harry Potter wiki and deep debates with other fans on Tumblr.

"You like organizing everything," you glance over at his famous Shogi/chess/Othello/Go board on its usual place on the coffee table, "and you use all of your resources-mostly information-to accumulate knowledge until you're completely satisfied. You aren't as cruel as people say you are; you're actually a pretty good guy but-"

You yelp when you feel a sudden weight on your pelvis before your hands, previously relaxed at your sides, are pinned on either side of your head by a force much stronger than yourself.

Your eyes are met with a familiar sight when you look up: gleaming vermillion eyes and a crooked smirk that causes your heartbeat to quicken and your body to heat up in ways you had never experienced before Orihara Izaya.

"A  _pretty good guy,_  huh," he questions with a raised eyebrow.

Your throat is suddenly too dry to answer properly, not that it really matters, because he leans down, warm breath fanning your face and eye contact never once relenting. You are completely under his control and yet a part of you is excited about it.

"But (y/n)-chan, that can't be right, can it?" He feigns innocence, attempting a pouty expression with a whining tone in his voice but the darkness in his eyes are omnipresent.

"A God does not concern himself with human ideas of morality," he says it casually, as if explaining something simple to a child, and you find yourself holding onto every word, still hypnotised by his gaze and addicted to the light brushes on his even breath against your lips.

He is mere centimeters from your eyes and yet light years out of your reach all at the same time.

"But you like that, don't you, little Hufflepuff?"

A surprised gasp escapes you involuntarily. You do not remember ever telling him about your own house and you certainly never expected him to even know their names. He seems to relish in your shocked expression and his smirk widens until it borders on manic grin and his hold on your wrists tighten ever so slightly. You briefly remember that his hips are still pressed tightly against your own and your face erupts into a bright pink.

" _Just and loyal, patient and true, unafraid of toil,_ " he quotes off, "but that doesn't really describe you, does it, (y/n)-chan? You're so selfish and impatient sometimes."

He rolls his hips into yours pointedly and you whimper, embarrassed by how undeniably desperate you sound. Liquid fire pumps through your veins and any potential hesitation or complaint you might have had dissolves all at once into primal desire for the man above you.

He leans down further, maintaining eye contact, until your lips met. Your eyes slip closed as you focus on the sensation. His kiss is unexpectedly soft and slow, a contrast to his normal persona. He nips at your bottom lip sharply, causing a gasp to rip from your throat, then it all disappears.

Your eyes blink open slowly, still dazed and struggling to comprehend the loss of heat. You hear a very familiar clacking and turn your head in the direction to find Izaya in the same position he was before this whole encounter: calmly typing away at his computer.

"You-!"  
You angrily begin to protest but quickly realise there is really nothing you could complain about without embarrassing yourself even further. That fact only serves to frustrate you further.

"N-nevermind, they were right, you're a total Slytherin! You manipulative monster!"

You continue your rant, oblivious to the smug expression on Izaya's face as he continues to work with his clients.

_How cute._


End file.
